In Afric's heats, and season'd to the sun;
Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us,
Ready to rise at its young prince's call.
While there is hope, do not distrust the gods;
But wait at least till Cæsar's near approach
Force us to yield. Twill never be too late
To sue for chains and own a conqueror.
Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time?
No, let us draw her term of freedom out
In its full length, and spin it to the last,
So shall we gain still one day's liberty;
And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment,
A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
Fathers, this moment, as I watch'd the gates,
Lodg'd on my post, a herald is arrived
From Cæsar's camp, and with him comes old Decius,
The Roman knight; he carries in his looks
Impatience, and demands to speak with Cato.
By your permission, fathers, bid him enter.
Decius was once my friend, but other prospects
Have loosed those ties, and bound him fast to Cæsar.
His message may determine our resolves.
Cæsar sends health to Cato
To Cato's slaughter'd friends, it would be welcome. Are not your orders to address the senate?
My business is with Cato: Cæsar sees
The straits to which you're driven; and, as he knows Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life.
My life is grafted on the fate of Rome:
Would he save Cato? bid him spare his country.
Tell your dictator this: and tell him, Cato
Disdains a life which he has power to offer.
Rome and her senators submit to Cæsar;
Her generals and her consuls are no more,
Who check'd his conquests and denied his triumphs.
Why will not Cato be this Cæsar's friend?
Those very reasons thou hast urged forbid it.
Cato, I've orders to expostulate
And reason with you, as from friend to friend:
Think on the storm that gathers o'er your head,
And threatens every hour to burst upon it;
Still may you stand high in your country's honours,
Do but comply, and make your peace with Cæsar.
Rome will rejoice, and cast its eyes on Cato,
As on the second of mankind.
I must not think of life on such conditions.
Cæsar is well acquainted with your virtues,
And therefore sets this value on your life:
Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship,
And name your terms.
Bid him disband his legions,
Restore the commonwealth to liberty,
Submit his actions to the public censure,
And stand the judgment of a Roman senate.
Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend.
Cato, the world talks loudly of your wisdom
Nay more, though Cato's voice was ne'er employ'd
To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes,
Myself will mount the rostrum in his favour,
And strive to gain his pardon from the people.
A style like this becomes a conqueror.
Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman.
What is a Roman, that is Cæsar's foe?
Greater than Cæsar: he's a friend to virtue.
Consider, Cato, you 're in Utica,
And at the head of your own little senate;
You don't now thunder in the Capitol,.
With all the mouths of Rome to second you.
Let him consider that, who drives us hither:
'Tis Cæsar's sword has made Rome's senate little,
And thinn'd its ranks. Alas, thy dazzled eye
Beholds this man in a false glaring light,
Which conquest and success have thrown upon him;
Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black
With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes
That strike my soul with horror but to name them.
I know thou look'st on me, as on a wretch
Beset with ills, and cover'd with misfortunes;
But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds
Should never buy me to be like that Cæsar.
Does Cato send this answer back to Cæsar,
For all his generous cares and proffer'd friendship.
His cares for me are insolent and vain:
Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato.
Would Cæsar show the greatness of his soul?
Bid him employ his care for these my friends,
And make good use of his ill-gotten power,
By shelt'ring men much better than himself.
Your high unconquer'd heart makes you forget
You are a man. You rush on your destruction.
When I relate hereafter
The tale of this unhappy embassy,
All Rome will be in tears.
SEMPRONIUS, LUCIUS, CATO, &c.
The mighty genius of immortal Rome
Speaks in thy voice, thy soul breathes liberty:
Cæsar will shrink to hear the words thou utter'st,
And shudder in the midst of all his conquests.
The senate owns its gratitude to Cato,
Who with so great a soul consults its safety,
And guards our lives, while he neglects his own.
Sempronius gives no thanks on this account.
Lucius seems fond of life; but what is life?
'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh air,
From time to time, or gaze upon the sun;
'Tis to be free. When liberty is gone,
Life grows insipid, and has lost its relish.
O could my dying hand but lodge a sword
In Cæsar's bosom, and revenge my country,
By heavens I could enjoy the pangs of death,
And smile in agony.
May serve their country with as warm a zeal,
Though 'tis not kindled into so much rage.
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